


should i take your love?

by vacationer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Sugar Daddy Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacationer/pseuds/vacationer
Summary: Victor is too beautiful to be on his knees on the dirty floor of Yuuri’s shitty apartment, and yet, he looks like there’s no place he’d rather be.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	should i take your love?

**Author's Note:**

> Should I take that dick?  
Got a whole lot of options 'cause you know a bitch poppin'   
I'm a hot girl, so you know ain't shit stoppin'
> 
> RIP Hot Girl Summer yall know yuuri was getting it 
> 
> Look, college girl, but a freak on the weekend......  
Hot Girl Summer so you know she got it lit......

Yuuri feels like he’s in a dream. 

It’s late, two am, and Yuuri’s still in his work clothes. His tee shirt smells sickly sweet, there’s waffle batter on his jeans and on the lenses of his glasses, yet Victor kneels in front of him, looking up at him like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

Victor is definitely the most beautiful thing Yuuri’s ever seen. 

He wears black slim dress pants, probably Ralph Laurent or something else Yuuri can’t afford, and a white silk button down. The first three buttons are undone, a rosy hickey blooming just below the left collarbone, a delicate golden chain resting above. His hair is messy, but still falls lovely over his face. 

Best of all, his lips are pretty and pink, wrapped around Yuuri’s forefingers. 

He presses in and out of the wet heat, feeling Victor’s tongue pliant under his touch. He’s too perfect, he’s too good. They’ve only hooked up once before this. Victor had fucked him. 

Want surges through him at the thought, Victor inside of him, and he pushes his fingers further into Victor’s throat. Victor groans, eyelashes fluttering, readjusting his position on his knees, arms crossed behind his back. Yuuri glances down to the outline of his cock, thick in his stupid sexy trousers. It can’t be comfortable, a thin belt with a gold buckle tight around his waist, where the silk shirt is tucked in. Yuuri wonders what kind of underwear he’s wearing—if he’s wearing any. 

Victor is too beautiful to be on his knees on the dirty floor of Yuuri’s shitty apartment, and yet, he looks like there’s no place he’d rather be. 

“Fuck it,” Yuuri mumbles, pulling his fingers out of Victor’s mouth, Victor’s teeth grazing his knuckles. Victor is taken aback, eyes widening as he lets out a little cough and swallows hard. His lips are slick with spit, as are Yuuri’s fingers. He wipes them on the leg of his jeans before going for his own belt. 

Victor hesitantly leans forward, resting his cheek on the side of Yuuri’s knee, looking between his face and his fingers working his jeans open. His eyes glisten as he watches Yuuri pull himself free and give a good couple strokes to his own cock. He momentarily feels shy, with Victor’s avid attention on him, but ignores it. He’s warm and bold with want. “Go ahead,” Yuuri says, Victor sitting up straight as Yuuri spreads his knees wider, shifting forward on the couch. “You can use your hands.”

Victor looks like Yuuri just told him he’s won the lottery. Maybe, with all the money he already has, this is as close to the feeling as he’ll get. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, Victor laying a hand light on his base, and taking him all the way down. “ _ shit _ ,” he says again, fisting his hand in Victor’s hair as he moves up and down on his length.

He can tell Victor likes sucking cock. Even if he wasn’t good at it—which he really, really is. His enthusiasm would make up for it all, the way he never takes his eyes off Yuuri’s, the twist of his wrist and the flick of his tongue. The way spit and precome is dripping down his chin and onto the carpet. Yuuri knows he’s going to feel the heat of embarrassment later tonight when he has to clean that up. 

But right now, all he can think about is how fucking good he feels. 

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth,” Yuuri tells Victor, pulling out so he can stand up. They hadn’t discussed any safewords, any hard boundaries, or what is off limits. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Victor gasps, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, tears from the corners of his eyes. " _ yesyesyes _ ," tumbles out of his mouth in a long string rather than separate words. " _ da, pozhaluysta _ ,"

Yuuri shivers, not even sure what the fuck Victor said, but it was a plea, and he’s hard and horny and wants to come down Victor’s throat. “Open,” He tells Victor, and Victor obliges. 

Victor rests his hands on Yuuri’s thighs as Yuuri slides into his mouth. Yuuri grabs his hair again, starting slow, until he’s thrusting into Victor’s mouth, his cock hitting the back of his throat. Victor is so fucking gorgeous, and eager, and takes Yuuri better than anyone he’s ever met. 

“I’m gonna come,” Yuuri warns him, and Victor groans, digging his fingers into Yuuri’s thigh, working around Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri pulls him in with both hands in his hair, holding Victor against him, and coming down his throat. 

He’s almost entirely silent save a small gasp, hips rocking into Victor’s mouth until he’s over sensitive and throbbing. Victor swallows everything. 

“Shit,” Yuuri sighs, pulling out, taking a glance at Victor’s wrecked mouth and hair. His cheeks are flushed, tears streaming down his face, dark wet spots dotting his shirt. His lips are red, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. “Up,” Yuuri commands, tugging hard on Victor’s hair. 

Victor cries out in pain, but complies. Yuuri doesn’t have the patience to apologize as they switch positions, Yuuri dropping down to his knees in front of Victor. 

He never does this for clients. 

Victor is just as confused as Yuuri would expect, unsure of what to do with himself as Yuuri unbuckles his stupid expensive Gucci belt.  _ This is so stupid, _ Yuuri chides himself.  _ This is insane. _ He pulls his glasses off and tosses them to the side. He shucks down Victor’s stupid too tight pants, and frees his cock from his stupid Calvin Klein thong. So he is wearing underwear.

Yuuri strokes him a couple times, and Victor looks down in awe. The tip is tacky with precome as Yuuri presses a gentle kiss to it. Victor lets out a shy little noise. “Yuuri,” he says, finally, and Yuuri takes him into his mouth. " _ Yuuri,  _ oh my God, you don’t have to do this,”

Of course Yuuri doesn’t have to. He really shouldn’t, anyways, because even though there hasn’t been a contract to discuss, this has never been included in the past ones. He doesn’t pull off, he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t want to. He wants this, more than anything right now. He’s wanted this since the first time he saw Victor. 

Yuuri keeps a steady rhythm and Victor lets out the occasional sweet sound. Yuuri never tries anything fancy, he knows his own limits, what he’s capable of. He can deep throat for a moment or two at a time, before gagging and pulling up. Victor sounds like he’s in pain when Yuuri does it, whining like a bitch. Yuuri would tell him that too, but his mouth is preoccupied.

The second time he does it, Victor rests a hand light on his cheek. “Can I come?” He asks, voice soft and shy. This isn’t the Victor he served ice cream to, flirty and funny and loud. “Please?” 

But, he also happens to know that he’s not the Yuuri that served Victor. 

Yuuri pulls off, swallowing the spit from his mouth. “Yes,” Yuuri tells him without hesitating. He strokes Victor in front of his face. “Come for me,”

Victor screws his eyes shut and does, shivering through it, cum streaking the side of Yuuri’s face, whimpering as he releases. God  _ fuck _ , Yuuri thinks. Victor is too pretty for this, Victor is too handsome, too expensive, too perfect for this. For Yuuri’s tiny apartment and minimum wage job and subpar head. 

Yes, Yuuri knows how to please someone professionally. He’s a sugar baby. But Victor deserves someone who knows how to do it  _ personally.  _ Just for him, someone who knows him inside and out, who knows how to flip his switches. Press his buttons. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor mumbles after a long moment of silence, slowly opening his eyes, running a thumb through his spend on Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri shifts his head, guiding Victor’s thumb into his mouth. He licks it clean, watching as Victor’s lips part the slightest, the tips of his ears and the bridge of his nose going pink.

“I wanted you to,” Yuuri tells him, honestly. 

He stands up from his spot on the floor, his jeans sliding lower down his hips, but he doesn’t really care. He’s a little shorter than Victor, but they can easily look into each others eyes. Yuuri takes his own fingers through the mess on his face, and offers them to Victor. He doesn’t need to say anything before Victor is licking his own come off of Yuuri’s hand, reaching up to keep a loose grip around Yuuri’s wrist. 

_Perfect_, Yuuri thinks again. 

He licks up and between his fore and middle finger, and folds them over to kiss his knuckles. 

Yuuri’s heart jumps in his chest. 

“When can I see you again?” Victor asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Yuuri combs Victor’s hair back into place with his clean hand, and reaches forward to clasp a few buttons on his shirt. Yuuri wishes he could offer his place for the night, but it’s late, and he has class in the morning, and work after that, and that will repeat all over again until, “Thursday night?” 

Victor beams, that bright energy returning to him. “My schedule is cleared.” 

Yuuri can’t help but smile back, feeling his cheeks warm. He glances down at Victor’s spent cock falling soft between his legs, and sighs, before tucking him back into his thong and tugging at his too tight pants. Victor ends up pushing his hands away and squirming back into them while Yuuri buttons his own. Victor smiles at him again, before turning to gather his jacket and bag, pulling on his leather chelsea boots. 

“Thank you,” Victor says once they’re at the door. He pauses for a moment, Yuuri watching as he glances down at his lips, and licks his own. Yuuri hopes he’ll ask for a kiss, another thing that Yuuri never does, but for Victor, he doesn’t think he’d be able to deny him. 

So, Victor says, “Thursday.”

“Thursday,” Yuuri agrees, and shuts the door behind him. 


End file.
